


you are my horizon

by a_mind_at_work (Madame_Marauder)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, No Lesbians Die, Royalty, Written for a Class, Yes this is lesbians written to a soundtrack of Hayley Kiyoko, no buried gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:34:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Marauder/pseuds/a_mind_at_work
Summary: She really didn't mean for this to happen, she really didn't.But here she is. Lip-locked with a princess.





	you are my horizon

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooooo so this was written for my English class, be kind.

The roof tiles are slick, rivulets of water running down the slate, making the rough surface smooth and slippery beneath her boots. The blustering wind doesn’t help her balance either, blowing her soaked hair into her face and whipping her loose tunic around her. 

But as far as cover for breaking and entering, the storm is perfect.

If the princess is in her rooms, she’s not actually sure what she’ll do. There’s no way she could subdue the other girl, not with the constant presence of the Royal Guard. Useless and ornamental they may be, but any fool can swing a sword hard enough to do damage. 

A cursory glance reveals an empty balcony, leading to empty rooms, lit by a single oil lamp. The light casts long shadows, deep and dark and easy to hide in. Perfect circu mstances, again. The stars must be with her tonight.

She swings one leg over the railing, then the other, fingers scrabbling on the smooth stone as she fumbles for a grip on the wet marble. It takes a moment, but she closes her hands around the banister and manages to right herself on the balcony, her breathing heavy from the adrenaline surging under her skin. Showtime.

The door is unlocked, the palace security as arrogant as they always are- she was climbing around the palace roof, for stars’ sake- and she can slip inside without a sound. This is going well. This is going  _ too _ well, because there’s no way that it should be this easy to steal the Crown Princess’s jewels. Yet somehow, there’s no catch that she can see, no trap, no other side of the coin, even though there always is one. 

The rays of light from the oil lamp illuminate the room, and she stands still for a moment, letting her soaked hair and clothing drip onto the beautifully intricate rug, staring around. If it was anyone else’s home, she’d be more courteous, wouldn’t ruin anything she didn’t need to. But this is the royal family, and anyone under the stars can tell you they can afford another glorified floormat. All that money they’re not using for the betterment of the kingdom has to go somewhere, might as well be here.

Usually, she has better morals than this, but honestly? The princess can get another necklace. The princess can get another hundred necklaces. She needs a couple right now.

The boxes of jewelry are right there, pearls and gold spilling out of ornate wooden caskets, and she steps to them quickly. A ruby on a silver chain should do nicely, the golden charm beside it worth more than enough. Between the two, there’s more than enough for the elixir she needs.

The necklaces go into the pouch at her waist, the drawstrings knotted twice over for the sake of her paranoia, and she turns to go. But then there are footsteps just outside the door, the clank of armor, and there’s no time to make it safely off the balcony. Stars, she knew this was too easy. Had they seen her? Had they heard her? Was the princess just about to go to bed? In any case, she’s screwed.

She ducks behind the huge, heavy tapestry hanging over the wall, a blessed space for her to hide in the corner it covers. The great woven fabric barely stops swinging before she hears the door creak open, and a voice say, “Good  _ night _ , sir.”

A heartbeat, two, and the door creaks shut again. Why did she decide to break into the princess’s rooms, again, and not a noblewoman’s? Oh, yeah, she has more expensive things.

Another beat, then another, and the tapestry is ripped away, a glinting knife at her throat. “Explain yourself, now. Why are my necklaces in the pocket of someone who looks like a drowned rat?”

The princess’s eyes are as hard as diamonds and sharp as broken glass, rage bright in their green depths. “I- I can explain?”

“Do so,” the emerald-eyed girl in front of her demands. “Tell me your name while you’re at it.”

“Cam,” the thief provides. “I’m called Cam. And I need a thousand gold pieces. Jewels usually are able to cover that, in my experience.”

The princess inclines her head, her dark curls shifting against the arch of her neck. “Give me one good reason not to cut your throat here and now for theft.”

“Because you’d have to have someone get the bloodstains out of your gown,” Cam replies, the words impulsively falling from her lips before she can stop them. The princess’s painted lips twitch in wry amusement, cracking her stiff facade enough for Cam to glimpse the frightened girl buried underneath. “Really, I’m not here to hurt anyone. I just need a thousand gold, and fast. Didn’t think anyone in the castle would particularly miss a necklace or two.”

A moment passes, and the princess sighs, lowering her dagger. “I never liked that ruby one anyway. Gift from a certain pompous idiot of a suitor called Williams.” Cam lets out a shocked laugh, and the princess smiles faintly. “You’re telling the truth. I can return the favor,” the other girl says defensively,  and hitches up her skirt to slip the knife back into a sheath at her knee. “I’ll not stop you from leaving, but you have to tell me why first.”

Cam glances over at the princess as she calmly straightens the folds of her gown. “You’re way too calm about this. Does this happen often or something?”

“No, but you seem an interesting person, and a source of honest opinion. The castle is short on those, so I’d hate to kill you.”

“You seem a reasonable princess, and stars know the world is short on those. I’d hate to die,” she replies. The princess smiles, her deep green eyes softening.

“For once, a compliment on something other than my appearance. Flattery will get you everywhere, but you’re avoiding the question,” the princess chides.

She hesitates, then shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. My brother’s sick. The cure is a thousand gold we don’t have. Here I am.”

That gets a reaction. The princess’s mouth drops, her eyes wide, and she takes an involuntary step backward in surprise. “That’s ridiculous. Actually, I think that’s also illegal. A thousand gold?”

“Illegal to those in prestigious districts, maybe,” Cam retorts. Her voice is too sharp; she really shouldn’t be snapping at the princess who just spared her life. She does anyway. “If the local authorities are in the right people’s pockets, they’ll turn a blind eye to anything they’re asked to. Your kingdom isn’t as lovely as your court seems to think it is, Highness.”

The princess scowls. “Stars, not you too. Yes, the court is hopelessly corrupt, and yes, we’re disconnected from the real world, because we’re not allowed… to… leave…” 

Cam recognizes that tone- that’s  _ her _ tone when she’s contemplating a ridiculous, outlandish idea. Like, say, stealing jewels from the Crown Princess. “What?”

“I can’t leave the palace to see the state of the kingdom, and we all know the officials are being paid off to tell us nothing’s wrong. But… but you can.”

“I’m not sneaking you out,” Cam cuts in. “I’ll tell you about the state of things, yes, but I’m not taking you out to see for yourself.”

The princess shakes her head. “Not what I’m saying. You got in here once, you can do it again. You seem like a decent person. You can update me on important happenings!”

“Princess, are you seriously asking the girl who broke into your rooms to be your news source?”

“One,” the princess says, raising one finger, “I have a name, and it is Ilyia. Use it. Two, no, I’m asking the honest girl with firsthand experience to tell me what the idiots in power are doing in my own kingdom, the throne of which I will eventually inherit. But phrase it how you want.”

Cam stares at her. “I can’t tell if you’re stupidly trusting, or just desperate for information. I’m inclined to call it the latter.”

“The latter,” the pri- no,  _ Ilyia _ agrees. “So? I let you go pawn my necklaces with no consequences if you stop by once a week and update me on what’s happening in the outside world?”

And it’s an incredibly dumb idea, but then so are most things when you think about them enough. The chance to get the cure for James, the chance to spend time with and have a guaranteed protector in the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen, the chance to maybe even do some good in the world… “Alright. Alright, I’ll do it,” Cam says begrudgingly. 

Ilyia’s smile lights up the room so much more than the oil lamp that it’s blinding. “Thank you.”

Cam shakes her head, but finds herself smiling back. “For my brother, and for the greater good,” she clarifies. The lie tastes bitter on her tongue as she says the words; those are factors, yes, but it’s her own selfishness that overrode her common sense.

The princess just raises one perfect eyebrow at that, her smirk telling them both that she doesn’t quite believe that’s all. Cam offers her a sarcastic bow, and steps out onto the balcony with Ilyia’s ringing laugh in her ears.

  
  


She could’ve gone back on her word, could’ve avoided this, could’ve just kept to herself and not gone back to see Ilyia again. But every time she contemplated it, she couldn’t help but picture the disappointment in the princess’s eyes, the frown that would curve her lips down, the way her shoulders would fall, and Cam would shake her head and resolve to decide later.

Then folks in Burton’s district start dropping like flies, and Cam finds herself scaling the castle roof again. 

Ilyia is sitting in an armchair, idly flipping through some novel, but her head whips up as Cam pulls herself onto the balcony. “Cam! You came.”

“Not a social visit,” Cam says sharply. “You wanted me to come tell you about any major problems, here I am. Ilyia, there’s something wrong in Lord Burton’s district. People are saying it’s the water, we’re not sure, but there’s some sort of illness going around in the area that uses that particular set of wells. Someone needs to do something, because folks are panicking, quacks are making a killing, and there are rumors flying around that can do just as much damage as whatever this thing is. It’s bad, princess, really bad.”

The other girl frowns as she leans heavily in the doorway. “Are you alright? Your brother?”

Cam nods heavily. “Yeah. We’re several blocks over, and the necklaces got us the money for the medicine James needed. Others… aren’t so lucky.”

Ilyia nods sharply, and stands, setting her book aside as she begins to pace. “Right. Is there anything currently being done?”

“Officially, no, but we’re bringing in water from other parts of town when we can, and that seems to be helping.”

“Right, yes, alright,” Ilyia agrees, and crosses her patch of the floor again. “I can get people to bring in other sources of fresh water, but that’s not a permanent solution. I’ll pull some strings if I can, get someone reliable to get someone else reliable to look into what’s causing this. This needs to be as soon as possible, yes?”

Cam raises an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

The princess raises her hands defensively. “I’m trying to figure out if we have time to wade through the idiocy of the nobles or not! We don’t, by the way. Not if we want to do this anytime soon. I’ll have people do some digging behind the scenes, figure out the water issues. Fair?”

“All I can ask for,” Cam replies, “is that you follow through.”

Ilyia smiles sharply, eyes glinting in the lamplight. “Oh, I will. I’m not my father.”

“If you were, I’d be dead,” Cam agrees. “You’ll make a much better ruler than he ever would.’

She feels her heartbeat pick up as Ilyia’s smile becomes genuine, her emerald eyes as bright as the full moon hanging in the sky outside. There are millions of stars in the sky, but somehow this girl’s smile outshines them all. 

“I hope so,” Ilyia says softly. They stare at each other for a long moment, but Cam eventually succeeds in tearing her gaze away.

“I should- I should go,” she manages, laying a hand on the doorframe. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I need to get home-”

“Oh. Well, have a good night, then,” Ilyia replies, just as awkwardly.

Cam nods. “You, uh, you too.”

An uncomfortable silence ensues. “Stay safe,” Ilyia adds.

“Right back at you,” Cam says, and there’s another moment before she slides back out to the balcony and curses herself for being such a blushing mess. She can’t get Ilyia’s smile out of her head for the rest of the night. 

  
  


Somehow, she finds herself sneaking along the palace roof for more and more minor things. First it’s the water crisis, or the riot on the outskirts of town, or the duel that took place the day before. But then it’s smaller things, less important ones, useless and silly but an excuse to spend more time with her.

And for her part, Ilyia starts telling her about the going-ons of the palace. She learns that Lady Courtney and Knight Richard are totally not-so-secretly together, that Lord Williams is a pompous fool with aspirations to the throne, that the Captain of the Royal Guard is almost decent, that Duchess Annalise has fake teeth, that General Damerson is definitely into guys. It’s almost like they’re… friends.

“Did you know,” Ilyia announces on a warm summer night, a soft breeze gently stirring her curls, “that we’ve now known each other for a whole year?”

Cam leans against the wall of the balcony, smiling softly. “No, really?”

Ilyia gives her a look, then rolls her eyes. “Don’t you sass me, young woman.”

“I’m older than you by a month!” Cam protests, and the other girl rolls her eyes, setting her hand on the balcony railing.

“Can I… can I ask you something?” Ilyia asks after a long pause.

Cam shrugs. “Sure.”

The princess traces swirling patterns on the marble with the tip of one finger. “Have you ever fallen in love with someone? But most especially, someone you could never be with openly?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cam agrees, ignoring the dull ache in her chest. “I have my star-crossed heart. But the heart is fickle like that; the one thing it wants is one of the few it can’t have.”

“Poetic,” Ilyia remarks with a dim, sad smile. “Tell me, Cam, if you were hopelessly in love with an impossible match, would you tell them?”

Ha. “Eventually, if I knew there was at least a tiny chance they would return the feelings.”

“And how would you confess to them?” Ilyia adds, turning to face her, letting one hand trail along the railing as she steps forward just slightly. The moonlight catches the faint shimmer of makeup left on her skin, setting her eyes aglow.

Cam exhales slowly, taking her own half-step forward. “Well. I’d take them to somewhere simple but beautiful, somewhere quiet under the stars. I’d tell them how beautiful they are, spend a long while just talking, and then… then I’d tell them it’s okay if they don’t feel the same, or if they wanted me to go and never come back. And I’d kiss them.”

Ilyia nods, steps forward once again, closing the distance between them, and reaches up to place a shaking hand on Cam’s cheek. “Well, my beautiful, impossible girl. It’s alright if you can’t feel the same, or if you don’t want to see me anymore. But… once?”

Her heart hammers in her chest as she cups Ilyia’s cheek. “At least.”

The princess surges up to meet her lips, and Cam ducks her head just enough that she can return the kiss.

It’s a long moment before they break apart, and Cam sets a hand on Ilyia’s shoulder before she can say anything. “Lia. Lia, before you panic… I did say I have an impossible love.”

Ilyia stares up at her, her abandoned heels in the doorway making the difference in their heights so much more noticeable. “Cam?”

She takes the other girl’s hands in hers, looks deeply into her emerald eyes, and smiles shakily. “Ilyia, you are my horizon; everything that is beautiful, everything that I want, everything I can never reach. But I love you.”

“I’m a princess, not a poet,” Ilyia replies. “But I love you too.”

They stand like that for a neverending moment, clinging to each other’s hands, silent, euphoric, frightened. But then Ilyia ducks her head, refusing to look back up. “You know what will happen if we’re discovered. I’m going to be queen, I need to marry a nobleman, I need to produce an heir. Taking lovers is accepted, in the palace, but they have to be... “

“Royal?” Cam suggests heavily. If there’s one thing she isn’t, it’s that.

The princess spreads her hands helplessly, meeting her eyes again. “At least in the Guard. I mean, almost  _ no _ marriages are love matches in the castle, they’re there for heirs and politics. Our hearts belong to anyone but our spouses, usually.”

“I can’t imagine,” Cam replies, shaking her head. “Outside, it’s almost always a love match.”

Ilyia sighs. “There are days when I wish I could just run away somewhere, just go and leave behind all the intrigues and idiocy of the court. But I can’t abandon my people like that. I can’t leave the kingdom at the mercy of Williams as king.”

“Never said you should,especially if he’s the one in line behind you. And believe me, I want to just up and leave sometimes too. But there are people who need me, an entire life I can’t just abandon. I understand.”

There’s another moment of silence, but this one is calmer, like the air between them is as relieved as they are that the other won’t hold their normal lives against them. Ilyia shifts, leans into Cam’s chest, and she wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“We’ll figure it out, Lia,” she says softly.

Ilyia nods. “We will.”

 

Her once-a-week visits become twice a week, then three times, then every other night. She still gives Ilyia updates on the kingdom’s happenings, but mostly, it’s just them talking. Cam talks about her brother, her parents, the latest meaningless scandal at the pub, the shopkeeper’s son who keeps trying to flirt with her. Ilyia talks about her one decent Guardsman by the name of Franklin, the court, the most recent attempt to impress her or her cousins, the numerous rejections of the numerous suitors attempting to win her hand.

“I’m going to have to go out to my cousins’ country estate,” Ilyia says, scrunching her nose in distaste. “I’ll be gone for a week or so, and we’re leaving tomorrow.  I don’t particularly want to go, but duty calls, I suppose.”

Cam raises an eyebrow. “Is this the one whose mother said you were too tall last time she saw you, and had her son try and pass a law that heiresses couldn’t wear heels?”

Ilyia throws her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Yes! Because that’s obviously what a seat on the Law Council is for, imposing fashion restrictions on someone who’s two inches taller than your crazy old bat of a mother!”

“There are days I’m glad I’m not you,” Cam replies, trying and failing to hide her smile. 

Her girlfriend huffs. “They’re just so petty! Can’t we just do our jobs and be decent rulers for once? Just solve a few crises without having to have secret information channels to find out about them in the first place? Come on.”

“As a secret information channel, I resent that statement,” Cam says lightly. Ilyia rolls her eyes, but smiles back at her. “You said a week?”

“Roughly, depending on travel times,” Ilyia agrees. “Maybe longer, maybe a day or so shorter. I’m not thrilled about it.”

Cam shakes her head and bumps their shoulders together. “Well, I obviously can’t come tomorrow, so I suppose we’ll just have to wait a whole nine days without seeing each other. Ish.”

Ilyia sighs. “No, you’ll see me off. Because nobody in the palace can comprehend that we have  _ enemies _ , I’m headed out in a royal carriage with a dozen Guardsmen, through the center of town. Brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it there safely,” Cam assures her.

 

That… is definitely not what happens.

James wants to see the princess’s parade out of the city, and so Cam finds herself in the crowd, trailing along after the procession with her younger brother on her shoulders. “Look, Cami!” James yells. “It’s the princess!”

“That it is, Jamie!” she calls back. The gold-leaf carriage is painfully ornate, the creamy white paint perfectly clean. But then there’s a whistle, and one of the guards topples off his horse, and someone up closer to the carriage starts screaming.

Oh, stars.

Ilyia.

Cam pulls her brother off her shoulders and looks him straight in the eye, his expression open and confused as there’s another whistle and more screams. “James, go home. Run. Get to our room and stay there, you hear me?”

“Cami-”

Shouting, the sound of someone pounding on the carriage door.

“ _ Go, _ ” she snaps, and sets him down. James hesitates, but bolts in the opposite direction. Around her, Cam can see mothers and fathers and siblings ordering the younger ones home, children fleeing with even smaller ones in their arms, older men and women herding the younger away from the chaos. One young man goes down trying to defend a wounded Guardsman- a brother, by their looks.

But then another voice joins the chorus of shouts.

_ Ilyia. _

The horses are panicking, but someone’s cut the harnesses so the carriage can’t escape, and they go stampeding into some side alley. The useless, ornamental Guardsmen surrounding the princess are making a valiant effort, but there’s only two left standing and unhurt- no, one.

And Cam sprints forward, pushing her way through the flood of people rushing the other way, shoving her way to the edge of the fight. None of the- assassins?- pay her any mind, and the lone standing Guardsman has his back to the carriage in a last defensive stand. It’s nothing but the pure instinct of fear that drives her to scoop up a sword from a fallen Guardsman and slam the pommel into the nearest attacker’s head, the adrenaline pounding through her veins that lets her block another’s slashing blow. But she’s gotten their attention, drawn two of the five away from Ilyia.

“Cam!” she hears Ilyia yell, high and frightened, and she chances a glance over the masked figure’s shoulder to see the Guardsman incapacitate the second-to-last attacker with a slashing cut to the abdomen, just to parry the other’s blade.

Somehow she knows to duck, and the blade whistling to her neck going over her head and lodging in a pile of lumber just to her left. Cam drops the borrowed sword and jumps to the side as the would-be assassin rips it out of the wood and sends the stack crashing down on top of himself. She can hear a sickening crunch and a low groan as the logs topple down, and flinches away, grabbing the side of a building for support as her legs try not to fail her.

“Who sent you?” she can hear the Guardsman demand, his blade inches away from the last attacker’s throat. 

They sound like they’re underwater, far away and thirty feet deep. “No-one,” replies the raspy voice.

“I won’t ask again,” the Guardsman grits out. 

The attacker remains silent, but then Ilyia’s clear, sharp voice rings out. “You shall be imprisoned instead of executed if you tell us who ordered this attack against your Crown Princess.”

Cam watches as the attempted murderer thinks this over. “It was Lord Williams,” he admits hoarsely. “It was Lord Williams. He sent a page to arrange a meeting, the boss set things up, it was the six of us sent.”

“Six?” Ilyia asks dangerously.

The man closes his eyes. “Crossbowman who started this. He’ll be long gone by now. He won’t go for revenge on you, Highness, he knows what the cost of this job is.”

A glint makes Cam glance up, though neither Ilyia or the Guardsman do. It’s a figure on a rooftop, fleeing. The captured man’s words aren’t a reassurance to them; they’re orders to the other, who’s gone before she can open her mouth to call attention to them. 

The Guardsman takes a pair of shackles from his belt and cuffs the man, then glances back up to the princess. “Are you alright, your Highness?”

“Physically, I am indeed,” Ilyia says stiffly. Cam stares at this frozen beauty, at the walls that have come slamming up around her like she hasn’t seen in a year and a half. This isn’t her Lia; this is Her Highness, Crown Princess Ilyia, sole bloodline heir to the throne. And, she realizes belatedly, this is how everyone else sees her.

That particular revelation makes her heart ache more than anything else in the past five minutes.

Ilyia casts a sharp gaze around the near-deserted square, scanning for anyone else, and steps down from her carriage regally. “Keep the prisoner in the carriage; he can’t possibly run that way,” she orders. “And Franklin- thank you.”

The Guardsman offers her a tense smile and drags the remaining attacker into the confines of the now-ruined royal carriage, the doors scarred and the pearlescent white and gleaming gold marred with deep scratches and spattered in scarlet stains. Ilyia sweeps another glance around as she approaches, her step light and deliberate even as the hem of her skirt trails through blood spattered on the cobblestones, and finally lets her shoulders fall. “Cam, what the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed!”

“So could you, princess,” Cam retorts. Ilyia’s hands are shaking in her silk gloves, no matter how she tries to hide it in her skirts. “I couldn’t- if you-”

Ilyia lets out a shaking breath. “You think I could live if you got killed trying to help me?”

Cam stares, and Ilyia looks back, each feeling their hearts shatter at the prospect of a life entirely without the other, or at the other’s without them.

“I should thank you for assisting my guards,” Ilyia says suddenly, her tone warm but her posture stiff. “You stood by me when all others save one fell or fled.”

Cam gives an awkward bow at a silent prompt, and Ilyia smiles as the square fills with Guardsmen, and the two are hurried over to a plain carriage. “My father will want to thank you for aiding me,” the princess adds. “I imagine there will be a reward of a position, perhaps as a personal guard.”

Her heart jumps at that, and the carriage jolts into motion.

  
  


“Knight Camryn?”

“Queen Ilyia,” she replies, rising from her desk. “Aren’t you relieved that’s over?”

Ilyia smiles, takes her hand. “I must say it’s odd to no longer have the first Guardswoman as my right hand,” she admits. “Now it’s simply my Knight.”

“As your Knight, I must say I don’t mind the change,” Cam retorts. “At least not this aspect of it.”

The other woman hums quietly. “You won’t believe what I saw Lady Courtney’s daughter wearing at the promotion.”

“I probably won’t,” Cam agrees, sitting on her desk. Ilyia rolls her eyes at the habit, but takes the chair. 

“Well, you see,” Ilyia says slowly. “It was on a silver chain, a shorter one, with a massive ruby as the pendant. Very familiar.”

Cam grins. “Seriously?”

“Definitely,” Ilyia replies. “Stars only know where it’s been these past ten years.”

She shrugs. “Good things happen when you let thieves pawn your gift from a creepy suitor with murderous tendencies, love.”

“That they do.”

A pause.

“They’re totally buying things off the black market. Should we be worried by that?”

**Author's Note:**

> Please????? Let me know what you think??????


End file.
